Purpose: introduction

    A person's character is nothing but a series of decisions. Usually these decisions come down to a simple yes or no. Should I get coffee this morning? Yes. Should I take Third Street instead of Fourth? No. In trying times choosing the correct decision is key. If a small child was lying in the street, her vision blurred from the oncoming truck lights, would you say: "Yes" or "No"?

  That day many people opted to say "no", but not Willa Hayes. In the half a second it took her brain to process the situation Willa somehow said "no" to safety instead. She shot off the curb and into the street, where the little girl and the garbage truck were waiting for her. Without much thought she snatched up the shaking child and tried to leap toward the edge of the road, where their lives waited to be continued. The truck whizzed by, it's brakes locked in an ear piercing squeal. The driver, a man of his 40's, climbed out of the cab and rushed over to them.
   
    "Oh my,God," he said his mouth hanging.

    Willa climbed to her feet, she felt fine. She seemed to have dodged the truck, along with it, death, but it was odd that not a single muscle in her body hurt, the fall and the hard landing had done little to her. None of her limbs felt torn or cut, nor did any of her muscles seem sore or twisted from the awkwardness of the fall.She glanced around at the staring faces, they seemed to be focused on something near her feet. She glanced down, and what she saw wiped the smile clear off her face.

    The truck had been going exactly 32 miles per hour, the safety of the curb only two and a half feet away, and Willa's action a few milliseconds too late. The garbage truck had clipped Willa and had sent her and the child flying face first into the concrete. The truck could never have stopped in time, and their bodies did little to even slow it down. I doubt that the driver had even felt them as their fragile bodies connected with the hood, that he even had time to hear their bones crush, or that he could even register what he had done before it was all too late. Willa's body lay crumbled next to the curb. She had died instantly against the truck's impact, but what of the child?

    Willa felt sick. She knew she was dead, but not why she was still here. She was only in her mid-twenties, and fresh out of college. She had never deserved to die, especially the way she had. She felt angry, but not for her own death. She was mad that such an innocent child should be involved in such a tragedy and that none of the fifty or so people standing on the sidewalk had even attempted to help. They had all they could do to just stand there and stare, as if staring was all they knew how to do, as if staring was what saved people's lives, and not the bravery of every firefighter, policeman, or soldier. What effort did it take to grab the child before her death was imminent? All it had taken Willa was three seconds. She hadn't thought about how she would be late for her job, she hadn't thought about spilling her coffee, she hadn't thought of nothing but saving that girl's life, and it shocked her to see that the people who were now just standing there glaring at her would put their time before the importance of a little girl's life.

    Standing over the little girl Willa tried for a pulse, but she didn't get one. She wasn't sure if, in this state, she was even able of feeling. Besides she didn't even know if she was even doing it right; still she hoped. The girl didn't look all that bad. She had a few minor abrasions to her forehead, and one of her limbs looked sickly out of place, but nothing more serious than that, and that was all Willa needed. She sat by the girl hoping, because that was all she knew how to do. Willa studied the girl's face. It was clear and smooth, her cheeks a little rosy from the brisk morning air. She had fine blonde hair tied with pink ribbons to form two little pigtails near the crown of her dainty head. The little body before her was dressed in typical school uniform dress, a black skirt and a white blouse with a red tie. She must only be in first or second grade. This thought alone was enough to bring Willa to tears. While Willa's education was coming to an end this girl's was only beginning. Everything just happened too fast.

    What was this sweet little child's name? Why wasn't she in school? Where was her teacher? Her parents? What would they think if they saw their cute little baby laying here, on the cold, dirty street instead of sitting behind her cozy desk at school? Would they scream bloody murder at the horde of bystanders who did nothing? Or would they be so distraught that they would be oblivous to them?

    The garbage man was standing over Willa now. He was pressing two trembling fingers on Willa's neck, but Willa knew that he wouldn't get a pulse.Couldn't he tell by the way she lay there, smashed against the pavement? Couldn't he see the lifeless glaze over her hazel eyes? Willa saw his face twitch, his panic stricken face go scary calm. Was he in shock now? He glanced at the child and on his way to her he walked right through Willa. A chill ran down her spine and she felt as if she was floating, and for a brief second it felt as if she wasn't there at all. The garbage man continued walking and the feeling subsided. He knelt beside the girl looking hopeful. He carefully checked for a pulse on her fragile neck, his nerves still racking his hands.

    "Call 911! She's alive!," he yelled and a few people responded by pulling out their cell phones. "Thank God she's alive," he said under his breath, so only Willa coulde hear him.

  Relief washed over the man's face like a tidal wave rolling over the Pacific, Willa's death already forgotton. That was okay. Willa couldn't force herself to hate him. He was just doing his job, a crappy, awful job, at that, but one that was necessary none the less. She hated the people on the curb the most. Innocent bystanders. There was no such thing. It was their fault that Willa was dead, that this little girl would've died. If Willa had not been there the girl would be dead. Still no one on the curb came forward to help. Sure they had called 911, but what was it to press a few buttons? Where was the risk in that? In fact, wasn't it something to say to your co-workers later on? I was the one to call the ambulance. I saved that girls life. Yeah. Sure. Whatever helps you to sleep at night.
   
  Blood was starting to pool around Willa's body. A thick red, liquid, spreading slowly across the pavement. Willa found it hard to look at. It didn't feel like it was hers. It didn't feel like she had died. She felt numb, tired, but not dead. The little girl was starting to come around. At first her whimpering couldn't even be heard over the dull roar of  the city in motion. Life goes on, as they say. Why did the cabbie, who was honking his horn at the bycicle messenger, care that a little girl had almost just died? And who cares if she might be truamatized the rest of her life as long as you get to work on time, right? Everyone's got a job to do, got money to make, or somewhere they have to get to. What's one little girl? Who cares? No one, until it's your little girl. Until it's your body laying cold on the sidewalk. Until they've gotten blood on your shoe.

  The girls body was shaking. Her frail little arms were reaching out for the garbage man, who was trying frantically to calm her down. A complete stranger, but it didn't matter to her. She was scared and in pain, and anyone would do. Anyone at all. All she needed was someone who cared. Her tears streamed down her face, and her frightened sobs went on endlessly. The wail of the ambulance could be heard in the distance. Finally. The garbage man turned so that she couldn't see Willa's mangled body. Good. She didn't need to even know Willa had been there. She didn't exist. It was fine. She didn't need to exist anymore. Why make the girl feel bad? It hadn't been her fault. It hadn't been anyone's fault. That's what they always say in accidents like these. But really, someone should've been watching the child. She didn't fully know the danger of being on the streets by yourself. If it hadn't been the garbage truck, fine, but there are other dangers, plenty. She never should've been unattended. Never. If there was someone truly at fault maybe it was that person. The one that was suppose to be watching her. But then again, Willa didn't know the whole story, so who was she to judge. She was no one. She was dead.

Before the ambulance even came into view the people on the sidewalk were already dispersing. The light at the intersection changed twice, bringing along two new clusters of traffice, two new hordes of taxis, their horns drowning out everything. Finally the ambulance arrived, an angry red and white blur, its sirens wailing. It squeezed between two cars, who refused to move, and came to a screeching halt before the scene. The back door flew open and three EMTs jumped out. There were two men and a women, all three dressed in black medical jumpsuits, with yellow bands around the arm. Stethoscopes swung wildly around their nexts and the stormed up to the little girl and the garbage man huddled on the ground. Willa watched in stunned silenece, the image before her almost surreal. She stood unmoving as one the male EMTs pronounced her dead and laid a black blanket over her lifeless body. Only when the women EMT scooped the sobbing child up in her arms, did Willa move. She followed after, her feet echoing off the ground as if she was still alive.

Inside the EMS the women craddled the girl in her lap, the girl's face buried in her shoulder. Meanwhile the other EMTs struggled with Willa's body with was now in a body bag and strapped to the gurney. Once in the door closed with heavy finality. Willa sat on the edge of the gurney and studied the motionless black bag. So this really was the end? She had always pictured herself having a husband and children in the future, but that would never happen now. She was suppose to go to her friend's birthday party on Friday. She didn't have a good dress, anyway. The electric bill was due tomorrow and so was her report at work. It almost pained her that she didn't have to worry about any of that anymore. She wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. Her life was over. Done. There were a million things she hadn't done and thousand things she could've easily done. She didn't get to make amends with her father; she had had so many chances. She wouldn't be around to watch her niece take her first steps. She'd never get to eat icecream while sitting in the sun ever again. She had never realized that having resposibilities and worries was something that made you alive. All the plans, all the ideas and dreams. They could never happen now. Willa could not understand how only twenty minutes ago she had been in the thick of life and all of sudden she was cut off.

She had so many regrets. So many decisions she wish she could redo. So many "yes"s that should've been "no"s. So many wrong turns, but the more she thought about it the more she began to realize something. What if she had decided to take Third St. instead of Fourth? What if she had taken that job in San Fransisco back in April? She might not be here now. She might've lived today instead of died, but what about the little girl? Maybe no one would've stepped up to save her. No matter how much she regretted the decisions of her life, she realized she would'nt have changed a single one. If she lived only to save this one little girl then her life was worth it. Every poor decision was worth it. She didn't know the girl. Maybe the girl would grow up to be drug addict who beats her kids. Maybe she was a rotten little brat who bullied her brother. Maybe she grew up to cure cancer and conquer aids. Willa knew absolutely nothing about her, but it didn't matter. It gave her comfort to know that no matter how horrible her life had been and how horrible her choices were, in the end she had at least managed to do one decent thing while all others did nothing.